


Sleepless Nights

by closedcartridge



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 15:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18123194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closedcartridge/pseuds/closedcartridge
Summary: Klaus couldn’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep. In fairness, he wasn’t sure of the last time he’d even had a night’s sleep. He just slept whenever he fell, and for as long as his body would allow it.Or; none of the Hargreeves can remember the last time they all had a peaceful night's sleep, and sometimes those nights overlap.[More tags to be added as I write the other chapters]





	Sleepless Nights

Klaus couldn’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep. In fairness, he wasn’t sure of the last time he’d even had a _night’s_ sleep. He just slept whenever he fell, and for as long as his body would allow it. Pretending that he couldn’t sleep because of the drugs was a lot easier than drawing attention to the screaming that started up whenever he closed his eyes.

Admitting he was struggling wasn’t something that was in his family’s blood. And it _especially_ wasn’t Klaus’ thing. He’d just pop something strong and laugh until the mask of being too high to be serious, a cloud of haze, slipped back into place. If people think you’re too high to think straight, no one forces you to confront your problems. Which suited Klaus just fine, it was easier to hide that way. But no matter how much time he spent running away from his problems, they always caught up with him again at night; grabbing him by the throat and dragging him back down into the cold, unforgiving stone.

So when he started sleeping back at his old house – _His home? Referring to it as a home when Reginald was in charge felt wrong_ – it didn’t surprise him much when he woke up gasping and fighting to stay afloat above the voices. Being at home had seemed to have jumpstarted the nightmares into a frenzy.

 _‘Familiarity breeds contempt,’_ he told himself; _‘you’ve got a lot more to put up with yet.’_ Klaus pulled a face. He hoped nothing was breeding in that house. Nothing good had ever come out of that place, and he was sure as hell that it wasn’t about to start happening now. The machine had already churned out seven fucked up kids, and Klaus wasn’t sure he could handle anyone else like them crawling out from the depths. 

Ben was there for him when he woke up. _God bless his patience,_ he was always there. Another face in the haze of death, but his face always felt real. Klaus spent a lot of time forgetting that Ben had died in the first place; especially when he helped talk him down. Sometimes he’d sit and remind him that he wasn’t back there, that he’s not ever going back there. Most of the time he’d just make a joke, or a stupid comment, or complain about something that would get Klaus talking about something else. They kept each other company this way, and Klaus wasn’t entirely sure that either of them remembered how to function without each other.

“Maybe you should get a hobby that _isn’t_ drugs for when you can’t sleep.” Ben was frowning at him now, arms folded.

Klaus knew he was doing it because he cared. But _he_ didn’t care. And _he_ wanted to smoke, and if Ben was alive maybe he’d understand how much easier it was to breathe when he couldn’t feel this pressure. But he wasn’t about to play the dead card, so instead he settled with cocking his eyebrow, a sarcastic _“Oh, really?”_ plastered on his face.

Ben sighed. Sat opposite each other at their childhood kitchen table, memories of the same, much older discussion drifted to Klaus’ mind, and he batted them away. Not the time to dwell on how long this had been going on for.

“I’m just saying, maybe you could try a book. Or going for a walk. Or just about anything else you can think of.” 

“I _could_ try crystal meth. I’ve heard that one’s more like candy.” 

He was pissing Ben off and he knew it. He looked exasperated, and Klaus wasn’t surprised. They’d had this argument a million times before, and it always ended the same way – with Ben angry and Klaus high. They’d chase each other round in circles until they snapped. Klaus always knew it was just because Ben cared about him, but he didn’t know how to tell him that the rush of the hit was the only thing that seemed to keep his heart beating, and that sometimes caring just isn’t enough to save someone. Reginald had taught him that, and Ben’s death had reinforced it further.

But he didn’t feel like arguing tonight. The nightmares were starting to catch up with him, and Ben sticking around was close to the only thing keeping him sane. Between their _dearest_ daddy’s death, Five’s return, and all of the fighting going on, it was getting beyond too much to handle. Klaus couldn’t understand the reason for Ben’s unconditional presence, but he wasn’t going to question him on it. If he pried too far into Ben’s reasoning, it might just unravel in his hands, and he might leave him alone. So he let their dynamic be, their to-and-fro arguing worked for both of them. Tonight though, he wasn’t going to start a fight. He didn’t have the money to get himself any higher than the rough buzz he already had on anyway, so maybe a walk wouldn’t hurt. Maybe he’d find something valuable for him to pawn and make up for the itching sensation in his chest too.

The long corridors of the academy felt emptier in the imposing darkness, the thin bars of moonlight slipping through the windows a reminder of the outside world filtered out by the academy. Most of the doors were closed, pushing away the rest of the world. Klaus supposed that most people would be asleep at this hour, but he had never exactly fitted in with his siblings entirely. Ben’s door was closed too, and for a moment Klaus’ hand hovered over the doorknob, desperate to let himself into the familiarity of childhood. And then he dropped it. There was no point in airing out old scars tonight. 

The academy halls didn’t question this decision, just watched, uncaring of whether anyone was disturbing their floors late at night. At the end of the corridor, Five’s room stood slightly ajar, the soft orange glow of light permeating the darkness around it.  
Klaus frowned back at Ben, but only got a shrug in response. Their brother had been less predictable since his return, and Klaus knew he had heard him pacing around and talking to himself at night before. After all this time, Klaus wasn’t really sure that he knew Five any more. But he equally wasn’t sure that any of them knew each other at all. Things had gotten messy after the strings holding them together had started to snap. But Five had come back pretty messed up, and despite himself, Klaus felt the gentle tug of caring pressing at him. It’s not like they didn’t care about each other despite the distance, it was just that _helping_ wasn’t exactly any of their strong suits.

As Klaus approached his door, the gentle light let him see further into the room. Five was stood on his bed, comparing whatever he had written on his wall to the book he’d been dragging around with him. It hadn’t crossed Klaus’ mind to ask what any of it might mean, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know anything more about his brother’s apocalypse ramblings. Klaus continued to watch him as he leant against the door frame, watching the annoyed sigh and frustrated, fast scribbling as he overwrote the last few things he had done.

“You know you’d probably get more done if you ever slept.”

The flinch was almost unnoticeable. The tensing up and slight twitch of the page in his hand. But, despite Klaus’ doubts, he knew his brother a lot better than either of them cared to realise, and to him it was as unmistakable. He didn’t acknowledge it. Between the two of them, emotional discussions were not their strong point. Five didn’t bother to turn around.

“What are you doing in my room, Klaus?” His voice was thick with annoyance, but neither he nor Klaus could recognise that the annoyance was pointed inwards. 

Klaus ignored the comment. “You can’t stop all this apocalypse jazz if you stay up all night burning yourself out.”

“I won’t _have_ anything to burn out if I don’t find a way to fix this.”

“How long have you been up for? I’ve not seen you sleep since you got back.”

Five closed his book in annoyance and finally turned to face Klaus, “Why do you even care? It’s not like you’re setting a great example, stomping around the house getting high at 3am.” 

Suddenly Klaus wished that he _had_ gone to buy something to keep his mind preoccupied rather than listening to Ben. Attempting to articulate _why_ he cared was way too heavy for a slowly sobering Klaus, and he wasn’t prepared to play that game with Five right now. Nor was he going to admit why he was up.

“Who cares why I’m up? I just don’t want to see you working yourself to an early grave. Because then we’d have to put up with each other all the time and we’d both hate it.”

Five shot him a look, but the joke paid off, diffusing the situation. As he watched Klaus, he could feel himself being read; like Five was trying to decipher him, taking him apart and putting him back together again in a way that made sense to him. Klaus could barely stand it, and as he was about to make the decision to make his exit _très rapide,_ Five spoke up again.

“The dreams still bother you, don’t they? That’s why you’re up.” He jumped off the bed and landed neatly beside it, resting his hands in his pockets.

It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and Klaus cringed a little under his scrutiny. 

“It doesn’t matter. Dad’s dead and gone and the bastard won’t be coming back to lecture me about my _great potential_ any time soon.” He wiggled his fingers to accentuate the last words. 

Five nodded. It was hard to forget their father’s criticism, and it was even worse talking about him, but the last week had been one long conversation about their father. Klaus had hoped that his death would spell the end of Reginald Hargreeves’ reign and that he could burn the family title once and for all over acid tabs and thumping music. But even in death the old man wouldn’t let him go, his claws still sunk firmly in his shoulders.

They watched each other for a minute, letting an unspoken conversation play out between them. Five sat himself down on his bed, leaving enough room on his side for Klaus to sit down beside him. As if sudden tiredness had washed over him. Klaus took this as an invitation, and crossed the room to sit down, surprised that Five hadn’t told him to fuck off yet. 

Neither of them spoke for a good while. Klaus remembered just how much he despised the silence, screams grappling at the edges of his conscious as he watched the patterns of the floor. By the time Five spoke again and dragged him out of his trance, the curves in the wood had started to twist themselves into faces and were starting to _shout._

“I haven’t.”

“What?” Klaus blinked. He was sure he hadn’t missed anything. 

“I haven’t slept since I got back.”

“Oh.”

Five’s voice came sudden, like he knew he had to get his words out before his mouth clammed up again and stole the words, “I’m sort of sure that if I fall asleep I’ll wake up tomorrow and realise this was all a dream. People aren’t supposed to turn thirteen again, it’s ridiculous. I just-” his voice wavered, and he bit his tongue to stop it, “I don’t want everyone to be dead again when I wake up.”

Klaus looked at Five, but his brother wasn’t looking at him. One hand was clasped around his wrist; his eyes fixed on the blank space in front of him. The death grip he had on his wrist wasn’t stopping the shaking. Klaus frowned. Part of him had forgotten that Five had ever actually had anything to lose. Since he’d been back he’d not shown anything but anger; hard to read and even harder to talk to. But Klaus recognised an echo of himself in Five now, the tiny red crescent moon cuts that littered his palms had followed him his whole life, and he couldn’t watch it happen to someone else. He knew how much those cuts itched as they healed; a nagging under your skin. The way that sometimes you choked when you tried to admit that something was wrong.

The Hargreeves didn’t do emotions. They didn’t discuss what was bothering them, they didn’t admit when they were hurting, and they didn’t show their wounds to one another. Showing a weak point just exposed an easy area to get kicked in, and none of them wanted to get kicked more than necessary. But Klaus was never able to just sit there and watch people hurt. 

When he moved to gently free Five’s wrist from the nails that were slowly working red marks into his skin, he expected him to punch him. To shove him away and shout at him for daring to notice his weakness. For Klaus to end up shouting at himself, _how could you be so stupid?_ But instead his hand just went limp in his, letting him gently pull his fingers around his palm and moving them away.

Five looked at him sideways, but if he was angry, he didn’t show it. There was a certain softness in his eyes that had been missing ever since he had landed in their yard, and Klaus was almost surprised to see vulnerability there now. He squeezed his hand and got a strained smile as a response. For a minute they sat like that, but a minute of vulnerability was enough.

“You’ve gone soft in your old age.” Klaus grinned, though his voice was gentle.

Five hit him for that, but he was smiling, which was good enough for Klaus. “Shut up. You know no one would believe you.”

 _“Shiiit,_ you’re right. You’re such a bastard. Fine - your secret is safe with me, _Mr Serious.”_ Five smirked at that, and Klaus let him have the satisfaction, “I guess I’ll let you go back to brooding or whatever it was you were doing. But you really should sleep before you pass out in front of everyone.”

“I’ll sleep when you do.”

“Is that a challenge? Fine, I’ll go to bed then. Two can play at that game.” Klaus got to his feet; one eyebrow raised, and waltzed to the doorway.

“Passing out in a drug haze doesn’t count as sleeping either, Klaus.” 

Klaus stuck his tongue out at Five as he left. He was pretty sure that neither of them were going to get any sleep, but he had at least made an effort to make that happen.

As he closed the door behind him, Ben was watching him with his arms folded, “You realise he is _actually_ going to kill you when you realised you stole the rest of his coffee, right?”

Klaus grinned at him.


End file.
